Enamored
by xStaticxTelevisionx
Summary: Blanche's trainers are gone, and she fears the worst. People and Pokemon have been getting killed all over the region, and no one can figure out who did it or why. Now the three rivals - Spark, Candela, and Blanche herself - must come to an agreement. Temporarily abolish the rivalry, or let this anonymous evil terrorize the rest of the world.
1. Chapter 1

**I got way into Pokemon Go, and I frikken love Blanche and Spark (don't worry, Candela is awesome too and she will appear). These two are total tropes, but they're also some of my favorite tropes. However there is one thing that gets me - there isn't really a narrative for Pokemon Go. The team leaders don't have a lot of backstory, yet they seem very interesting with extremely distinct personalities. Figured I'd add my own little story to the vast expanse of the Pokemon universe.**

 **-Static**

 **/*\**

Blanche did not view herself as a friendly person. She was always busy with her research, watching and studying her pokemon and entering data into electronic files late into the night. She wasn't sociable, and spoke in short and often blunt words. She comes off as rude, though that's not how she means it at all. Candela once deemed her an "antisocial workaholic" a term she thought was meant to be endearing but didn't feel like it at all. And Spark…well she wasn't entirely sure if she had ever even spoken with Spark outside of hallway pleasantries.

A soft rapping on the door broke her out of her train of thought. Contrary to popular belief, Blanche did enjoy the few breaks she got. She could simply sit back in her chair and close her eyes, not having to look at the bright computer screen. She could sip her tea peacefully and let her mind rest even for just a moment.

She sighed and called for the intruder to come in. She had assigned some of her trainers to catch a large sample of magikarp for her newest study. Blanche was hoping to evolve a red gyarados. She would love to figure out what sort of gene caused the mutation, or if it was even caused by a gene at all.

The young trainer entered and presented a bag full of pokeballs.

"Hello Team Leader Blanche!" She got out breathlessly, removing a cheap-looking backpack and setting it on the desk. "So far, I've managed to collect about forty magikarp. It's still a long way to go, but it's a start yeah?" The trainer looked nervous and hopeful, as though she were anxiously awaiting praise. Blanche did her best to give her a reassuring smile. Smiling for others had never been her strong suit.

"Hello Trainer Lily," Blanche greeted, "This is absolutely fine. Forty in one day is excellent work. Thank you for your assistance." The girl smiled shyly back and nodded. Lily rushed out the door, excitedly assuring the white-haired woman that she would return with more magikarp, and let the door close softly behind her retreating form. The team leader sighed in relief. She had never been good at even formal communication, but her newest recruit understood her words and attitude perfectly. Where she might have sounded dismissive to others, Lily recognized her appreciation.

She stood up and stretched, her coat hanging stiffly between her shoulders. Blanche grimaced and decided to take it off. It was warm in the room anyways, and it wasn't as though anyone would come in any time soon. Left in her waistcoat and bodysuit, she took the sack in hand and methodically began loading the pokeballs into a storage unit. She did not want the magikarp getting out yet. They would die very shortly outside the ball, deprived of water, and then they definitely wouldn't evolve.

Her task finished in a matter of minutes, Blanche returned to her computer. She quickly checked that there was no more work to be done just yet, and glanced at the clock. Damn. It was only 9:00 pm. She still had another three hours to go before she could leave. More trainers were scheduled to return with more magikarp. She sighed. How to pass three more hours? Her eyes flickered over the towering bookshelf. In fact, most of the books were unread. She always found interesting reads on her trips alone to the bookstore, and always ended up leaving with at least five new tomes. She would tell herself that she'd find the time for them, but in the back of her mind she knew they would end up collecting dust on her shelf. There was always so much work to do, that no matter what promises she made herself she could never get further than a chapter.

Now she was faced with the prospect that she might have three whole hours to herself.

Smiling, Blanche made a pot of fresh tea in the little kitchenette of her office and picked something out. It wasn't too lengthy – only about two-hundred pages – and sat down on the couch, just a little to the side of her desk. She set her tea down on the table, and sank into the sofa. She pushed her long white ponytail aside and tucked her legs under herself. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten to relax with a good book.

An hour passed, then two. Blanche had been so sucked into the story that she only had a few pages left when she noticed the time. Her eyebrows knitted together. Eleven O'Clock? That couldn't be right. At least one more trainer should have returned by now. She shook her head softly. _No,_ she thought to herself, _it's fine. Maybe they found another Pokemon worth catching, or they stopped to get something to eat. They know I don't mind such things. Perhaps this is just the universe letting me finish my story for once._ She continued, though she had a sinking feeling that she shouldn't.

She told herself that they were fine and had just been delayed. These things happened, and she had been granted the pristine privilege of getting to read one of her own books for once instead of checking a science text she had memorized 20 times over. She never got to have this much free time to herself and there were only about nine pages left. She did want to get to the end, after all.

But as Blanche finished her book and got through three more chapters of another, the worry only knotted in her stomach. At this point it was now 11:45 and still nothing had happened. The trainers weren't technically due until midnight, but they usually showed up early. She did not like it when they were late, nor did she like it when she was forced to stay later than necessary. They knew that.

As the clock ticked and the final fifteen minutes passed the leader could feel the dread building up to the point where she could almost taste it on the tip of her tongue. She tried to tell herself that she was just being paranoid. They were fine, they were just late. It was now midnight, and she couldn't even hear the elevator down the hallway. She closed the book and retrieved her trench coat from the chair.

 _What if they'd gotten lost in the woods?_ The voice in the back of her mind whispered as she shrugged on her coat. _What if they ran into hostile pokemon? What if they ran into the rogues?_

 _No_. Blanche thought, trying to reassure herself, smoothing out her clothing. _If they had run into trouble, they would have called. They had their Pokedexes. They can use those to call here in case of emergency. Those things had been redesigned for that very purpose, even if they were rendered physically incapable of tapping the call button. They monitor the adrenal glands of their owners. If they were in danger they would have been afraid, if they had been afraid the Pokedex would have gone off and I would have been notified. Hell, I'm even notified when it_ isn't _an emergency._

Blanche took a deep breath, almost blushing at the thought of the few false alarms they'd had so far, and finished her tea and checked the hallway. There was nothing there. Not the faintest sound of even the vent system, and it looked as though even Candela and Spark had gone home.

Where were her trainers?

Blanche made her way towards the elevator, the hairs on the back of her skull rising like a nervous jolteons fur. She never got this feeling, this feeling of wrongness. She couldn't shake the sense that something truly awful had happened. A poster on the wall caught her eye for a split second.

 _Trust your instincts._ It read. Spark's poster. As obnoxious as the man could be, perhaps he had a point.

Though it made her uncomfortable to work with anything other than cold hard facts Blanche had never experienced this before, this intense sense of unease. Her trainers had been late before, and she'd felt nothing but irritation.

Why was this time different?

She patiently waited for the elevator as it faintly dinged again and again and again. When it finally opened Blanche let out the breath she'd been holding.

It was far too quiet in this building.

She stepped inside the metal doors and hit a button. She was going to the roof. Her intuition told her that she might need the assistance of one of her pokemon. One with the ability to fly.

/*\

To say that Spark was not a patient human being would be a massive understatement. He glared at the television and clutched the controller in his hands. More tiny cracks began to appear along the plastic seams.

The console was taking absolutely forever to update, and Spark was only a few minutes away from jumping out the window in sheer frustration. He growled and set the controller down, clattering a little too harshly on the coffee table. Maybe he could get this to work in his favor. While he was waiting for the damn thing to finish updating, he could find himself a snack. Something a bit more filling than flavored tortilla chips.

After a few minutes of searching, he found some pizza rolls in the freezer. He silently fist pumped, and dug around in the cabinets for a cookie sheet and tin foil. He popped the rolls in the oven for twenty minutes, and played around on his phone until they were done. He let his food sit for the allotted amount of time, and then piled his snack up onto a plate. Yes, much better than chips.

He sat down and silently congratulated himself on his patience. After all that time he spent, the console should at least be close to ready. He looked to see how far the updates had gotten.

The console was at 15 percent.

/*\

Spark was on the roof staring out at the city, and scarfing down his food. The night was clouded and in addition to the cheese and sauce, he could detect the ozone in the air, the light and crisp scent of rain. Thunder sounded in the distance and light flickered in the corner of his eye.

An electrical storm. He stared to his right, watching as bluish white light crackled across the horizon. The wind was blowing in his direction, so it wouldn't be long until he would have to go back inside. It was coming closer every second. He set the plate aside and looked out at the fading lights of the city, and the stationary pillar that marked Professor Willows public lab. Spark kept only a few eggs there, the rest hidden inside of the secret Instinct HQ, but with the growing number of burglaries and murders, Spark couldn't help worrying.

He wasn't sure who was committing all the crimes. No one was. Dead people and pokemon were being found all over. Just that morning, one of his own trainers had been two hours late for a meeting. It wasn't that important, he wasn't presenting anything and it was just a small schedule change, but Spark had noticed. This was a man who was early to _everything_. If he was late he pleaded for forgiveness, in spite of the fact that Spark was notorious for being too forgiving. If he happened to be sick or if his family needed him he called in a day off or sick day, and he always ensured that it was _Spark_ who knew. He _always_ knew where this guy was whether he liked it or not.

Today though? The leader had been worried. He'd had a terrible feeling, and he'd been right to. Not thirty minutes after the meeting ended, Officer Jenny and her lackeys entered the scene, asking him what he knew about the trainer. He found out that his trainer had been found dead on his morning run. He'd been stabbed in the neck with a syringe, poisoned by some kind of drug no one had ever seen before. Unlike every other murder, there was no evidence of a fight.

Even more disturbing, the pokemon too had been killed. The common ones such as rattattas, pidgeys, eevees and the like had been torn into near unrecognizable pieces by what he could only suppose were predatory pokemon. From the pictures he'd seen, it looked like it had been done with obvious zeal. The blood, the fur patches, the splintered bones and pink innards, it nearly made him hurl.

On the other hand the "more valuable" creatures had been taken, not killed. Given that one piece of evidence, all that anyone knew about these guys was that they were probably pokemon traffickers, or involved in illegal experimentation. Yet it didn't match up with any gangs style. Team Rocket, Magma, Plasma, any of them. They did awful things. They stole pokemon from their homes and trainers, tried to create more landmass and disrupt the ecosystems, tried to break the bonds between pokemon and human, but ultimately there was always a line. They were thieves and idealists, not murderers, and none of them especially would kill a pokemon.

It almost looked like the strange rogues were having _fun_ , and it's shaken even the other gangs into silence. No one has heard from any of them. No graffiti, no propaganda, not even any grunts on the streets. Whoever this new criminal syndicate was, they were feared, and they remained anonymous. No one knew what it was they wanted, and in addition to their bloodthirsty "sport" it had a purpose: they had left no witnesses. No one knew who they were or even what they looked like, and to him that was the scariest part.

Spark took his empty plate and stood up, preparing to return to his apartment. Surely the console had to be done by now, and he could change back into his PJs and relax with an FPS or maybe an RPG. Either way, he wanted to be able to scream "REKT" at the television. He almost smiled at his plan when a flicker of movement caught his attention high above.

It looked like a bird. A bird with a very familiar trainer on its back.

 **/*\**

 **Never written for Pokemon before. In fact I never even played Pokemon until about a year ago – I watched the anime, but never played. I was one of those kids whose parents disapproved of video games of all kinds. In turn I ended up wanting to be a game designer. Lol.**

 **-Static**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello.**

 **-Static**

 **/*\**

She fell to her knees, entirely desolated. She had never seen this much blood, nor could she comprehend the fact that there were legs and tails and bones scattered near and far away. The bits and pieces of one pokemon could have covered a square mile. Patches of blood and hair and fur and demolished landscape told her there had been a fight. One that her side didn't win.

This was all her fault.

/*\

When Spark had seen her riding on the back of a pidgeot, he could feel a brow rise as a bemused smile decorated his face. He would have never guessed that Team Leader Blanche might be one of _those_. Trainers who liked flying didn't typically mope around and do research all day. Not that she moped! He'd never say something like that, especially not to her face, but to the point: she was serious. She was antisocial and indifferent and curt and he'd never heard her speak more than a few words at a time. Her appearance was constantly impeccable, and he'd never seen her with even a hair out of place.

She was quiet and involved in her work, and that was all there was to her. As he watched though, she didn't seem to be enjoying herself. She sat on the pokemons back as though she were familiar with the feeling of being in the air, but she was stiff. The lightning crackled overhead and the pidgeot squawked, flying lower. She looked to be in a hurry, but she was headed towards the forest.

That was when it hit him, and the red flags showed themselves. Why would Blanche be going to the forest in the middle of the night during a lightning storm? As the bird flew lower, Spark got a good look at her face. She did not look stoic or serious or even indifferent. Her eyes were wide and her lips were parted, as though she couldn't get enough air. Her hair was a mess, having fallen out of its ponytail, and he could make out her words over the thunder.

"Something is wrong! Fly faster!"

Spark wasted no time calling on one of his own pokemon. He jumped on its back and followed Blanche. Something had happened, it was obvious, and if the strong and stoic leader of Mystic looked that scared he was going to go along as backup.

/*\

She didn't even notice that he dove into the forest after her. She was so engrossed in her task that she hadn't even realized that someone had been following her. So when she heard the rustling of the bushes behind her, the soft ripping of grass under talons, she immediately panicked. She whirled.

"Pidgeot! Hurricane!" The gust of wind blew the man into a tree trunk, he shouted at his own pokemon.

"Fearow, use Drill Run!" The pidgeot defended itself and its trainer. Who was this? What was he doing? Why would he be out here in the middle of the night? Would he try to kill her? Would she end up like all the other trainers who'd been found? She was about to shout another attack when the lightning snapped across the sky once more, illuminating the clearing for just a moment. She saw his face and put a halt to the battle at once.

"Wait!" she said. "Spark, is that you?"

"Who else?" he snarled. "Why'd you do that?" She took a step back.

"I'm sorry, I thought…" The frown melted away. He wiped away the blood on his chin.

"You thought I might be an attacker." He stated, straightening his posture. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snuck up on you. You looked scared, so I followed. If there was trouble I wanted to help. What did they say?" She tilted her head.

"What do you mean?"

"I had assumed you'd gotten a call for help. Your trainers. What did they say?" To this Blanche said nothing, instead letting her hair fall into her face. She looked almost shy as the pidgeot lightly mussed the silver strands with its beak. Blanche was not interested in sharing her silly supposition, her unreasonable fear. What would they say, back at HQ, if she had run out into the middle of a lightning storm because she was convinced her trainers were in trouble. And without even the slightest bit of evidence! Her reputation would lay in tatters and she thought about lying, but it was clear: Spark had not relaxed.

It wasn't irrational. All he knew was that he'd seen her dashing out into the middle of the forest, at night and during a storm. They were not friends, they were barely acquaintances. Given the awful things that had been happening lately, it was smart for him to be suspicious.

He was ready to continue the fight. Though his voice was calm and his facade tranquil, she saw the clenching of his fists, the slight narrowing of his eyes. Even his pokemon shadowed him closely, just in case something happened. They were both on high alert. She had to reassure him, otherwise he might decide to attack. If he attacked, it would not end well for either party.

"I…n't…ny...lls." She mumbled, turning to her pokemon to calm it.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. What was that?"

"I didn't get a call. I just – they were late. They were three hours late a-and it felt wrong, and I got worried so I'm looking for them." Spark nodded.

"So maybe you've just gotten a little paranoid?" She took a step back. That was it. That was the very fear she held deep down in the bottom of her heart, that she had come out here for nothing. That a complete stranger, Spark no less, had seen this messy and dysfunctional side of her. For once, she allowed her first thought to pour out of her mouth.

"That's rich, coming from you. What happened to 'trust your instincts' Spark?" She lilted. Even if Blanche was embarrassed, she still had her pride. She would not let this imbecile dismiss her so easily, especially since he was known for being – well – an idiot. He held his hands up in surrender.

"Easy, I was just trying to understand. I call it instinct, you and your people view it as mental illness." She gritted her teeth. That wasn't it at all, but there would be time for that argument later.

"I thought you said you were here to help." She growled. Spark smirked.

"I am. However I don't think we'll have much luck if you don't know where to look." She raised an eyebrow.

"And what makes you think I don't know where to look? There's only one place to catch water pokemon in Viridian City. Surely even you know where that is?" Sparks eyes narrowed.

"And what makes you think they went to the river? What if they went all out and decided to make a trip to Cerulean City?"

"Their deadline would not have been long enough. It's the East River or nothing." Spark nodded.

"Alright then. I go south, you go north?" Blanche nodded, and before her colleague could say anything more she leaped onto the back of her pidgeot and took to the air, narrowly missing a lightning strike. The fearow cowered behind him.

 _What kinds of experiments must she run on those pokemon,_ he thought to himself, _that they don't even flinch at a brush with lightning?_

/*\

Blanche continued on her way, listening as the lightning slowly faded the further she got. Still she saw nothing. On the back of her bird, she could see everything. If the situation wasn't so serious or imperative, she might be inclined to enjoy herself. On her off days, she did enjoy flying with her pidgeot, or charizard, or any of the others big enough that she could get on their backs.

She glared at the ground, hoping for anything at this point. She just wanted to see her trainers, to know that they were safe. She was immensely worried and she _still_ felt it. The insistent urgency of the wrongness. She felt it in her gut, swirling and toiling to the point she almost felt sick. It had to be at least one in the morning by now. Where could they be? Perhaps her fear was wrong. Perhaps they were at the lab waiting for her right now.

That was when she caught sight of it, the one thing she had hoped so deep in her heart that she wouldn't find. At this point the lightning storm had passed, the thunder a dull sound off to the side rather than above her. She jumped off her pokemons back, and she surveyed the area with a calmness that even she herself found disturbing.

Her trainers, all remaining four of them, were dead.

/*\

Spark could almost feel the scream. It was so loud, so potent, that it rattled him to the bones and set his teeth on edge. Fearow turned without being told to, and it sped to the destination.

When he landed he did everything he could to keep himself from gagging. The stench was the first thing that caught his attention. It reminded him of the time he'd gone to a butcher to buy fresh meat for the carnivorous pokemon. He'd never visited that place again. The smell of blood and the beginnings of rot had permeated his senses in a tiny closed space. This, however, was far more potent. There was no sterility to the environment, and the dead creatures were most certainly not meant to be dead.

The riverbank was scraped and stained with ribbons of a rust-colored substance he didn't care to think too much on. An eevee tail and ear sat next to each other in a way that should never be, and bits of what he supposed used to be a magmar were stuck in charred pieces to various trees.

There was a raichu tail just in front of his feet and he skittered back, but somehow that wasn't even the worst part. Just up ahead Blanche was on her knees, her head in her hands. Her body was convulsing and he could vaguely hear the muffled sobs. Just in front of her was the body of her second-in-command. The trainers had fared a little better, though in this context it seemed disgraceful to think of anything about this situation as 'better'. Their throats had been slit, but their bodies remained in one piece.

It was revolting that it could be considered a good thing.

Spark knelt beside the other leader and placed a hand on her shoulder. He didn't know her that well, and wasn't sure what she would accept as condolence. Hell, he didn't even know that Blanche was capable of such intense displays of emotion. Shame rattled through his body.

Instead of pushing him away as he expected she leaned into his shoulder, her broken sobs becoming just a little louder.

"This is my fault." She wheezed. "This is my fault." She repeated it over and over again. Spark wrapped his other arm around her.

"This is _not_ your fault." He said, but it was like she hadn't even heard him.

"They wouldn't have been out here if it wasn't for me. I had them searching for magikarp. _Magikarp_ of all things."

"It's what you do. You guys are into evolving, and the idea that a useless fish turns into a badass dragon is a pretty intriguing notion."

"They died over _fucking magikarp._ " She sobbed. "And look what they did to the pokemon. Nothing deserves to die that way. Not even the bastards who did this."

It became very plain very soon that nothing Spark said would get through. Not now anyways. The rain had receded, but Blanche's clothes were sopping wet, and her hair was even worse. If he couldn't console her, he could at least get her someplace warm and dry. So he did the only thing he possibly could do.

He picked her up, and carried her over to their waiting pokemon.

 **/*\**

 **I hoped you liked chapter 2!**

 **-Static**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey. How's it going?**

 **-Static**

 **/*\**

Blanche relaxed into the tub as much as she physically could. Everything felt sore, and it wasn't just the physical discomfort. She wasn't used to unfamiliar surroundings. Spark's apartment was a little cleaner than she might have guessed, but it definitely belonged to a man. There were clothes scattered everywhere, and books and games littered the floor. However there were no dirty dishes or any kind of bad stench. He was untidy, but at least he was clean.

The soap smelled far too strongly for her tastes, and the bubbles made her skin itch like crazy, but the warmth from the water was too good to pass up. It was only when Spark had pushed her into the apartment and locked the door behind him that she realized she was freezing. He rushed to run a bath for her while she took off her jacket and waistcoat. She tried to squeeze out some of the water from her hair over the sink, and he returned with towels and clothes.

"Bath's ready." He murmured. "The clothes will be a bit big, but the pants have a drawstring. In the meantime I'll hang up your other things to dry." She said nothing. Only took the items and locked herself in the bathroom. She should have thanked him, but she knew that if she said another word she'd burst back into tears.

She had to retain her composure. Especially now that she was in someone else's house, but at least it gave her something to focus on. Instead of seeing the bodies over and over again in her head, she rinsed her hair in hot water again and again. Finally she had gotten comfortable, but it only took a few moments for her to feel over-warm and dizzy. She sighed to herself.

She had to come out sometime, and she was starting to feel anxious. So she drained the water and wrapped up in the towels. As soon as she had clothes on, she took her hair down and dried it as best she could. It hung in damp clumps around her shoulders, and she walked out of the bathroom.

/*\

Spark was studying the television. The updates still were not complete, and though it irked him to some degree he knew that this wasn't nearly the most important thing right now. But what else was he supposed to do? Blanche was in the bathroom taking a bath, regaining lost warmth. All the food was gone, he'd eaten most of it in his nervous stress, and the first thing he'd done was change into sweats and a t-shirt.

There was nothing else for him to do, so he watched as the loading screen taunted him, mocked him. It made him wish that-

The sound of a door opening stopped his train of thought, and he turned. Blanche stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Spark patted the other side of the couch, and she hesitantly placed herself beside him. No one said anything for a few seconds, and finally Spark spoke up.

"How're you feeling?" He asked, his voice barely higher than a whisper. The silence felt too fragile to break, like everything would shatter if he spoke any louder. Blanche didn't even look at him.

"Warmer." She said. "Thank you." She awkwardly tacked on. Spark raised an eyebrow.

"For what?"

"I know how the rest of you see me. You chose to help me in spite of it." Spark wasn't sure what to say. Mainly because, in the moment, he wasn't fully certain what she meant.

"No problem." He said. He turned back to the television. Plainly the console wasn't going to finish any time soon and he figured it would not be cool for him to put in a disc anyways. He grabbed the remote and flicked it back to the cable, then turned to the quiet girl beside him.

"Can I get you anything?" He asked, "Water, tea, coffee?"

"Water? Please?" She responded. He nodded and bolted to the kitchen.

Blanche had always unnerved him, from the day that Professor Willow had introduced him to her. Her face was cold, her eyes analytical and emotionless. He would say hi to her every so often in the hall, but that was about it. He liked to think of himself as a nice guy, but he was ashamed to think that he had harbored some unkind thoughts against her.

He returned and handed her the glass. He wasn't a therapist or counselor, and he wasn't really sure what to do. The storm had let up but it was still cold out and her clothes were nowhere near dry, so he couldn't take her home. All he could do was sit in the awkward silence.

"Why do you think they did it?" She asked so softly that for a moment, Spark wondered if he'd hallucinated her speaking.

"What?" he asked.

"Why do you think they did it?" She repeated. "What could they possibly hope to gain from killing the people and pokemon? I mean, it's clear that they wanted no witnesses but…there are drugs, serums, things that make people forget. It's plain that they want to remain unknown, so why be so conspicuous?" Spark shrugged.

"Probably because it's easier. Drugs and serums are hard to get a hold of, and it would create a paper trail. Murder doesn't." She leaned her head back.

"I suppose you have a point." She stared at the TV. She looked so tired. Dark circles discolored the skin beneath her eyes, and a small frown tugged at her lips. Then he noticed a small speck of red staining her hair, right where her ear was. Instinctively, he reached out his hand to her.

"Hey," he said, "are you hurt?" She jumped and looked at him, startled.

"What?" she asked. He lightly took hold of her chin and turned her head, pushing some of the hair out of the way.

"How many earrings should be on your ear?" He asked. Blanche sighed and swore to herself.

"One of them tore out didn't it? There should be six."

"There's only four."

"The sapphire is still there right?" She asked. "That's the only one I'd be upset about losing." Spark chuffed. He almost laughed. What an intense night this had been. First murder, now earrings.

"Nah it's still there. Was it very expensive?" She hesitated.

"No…" she said.

"Sentimental value, then?"

"Yes."

"Well no worries. It's still very much in your ear. So are four small hoops."

"That's fine. Is it very terrible? Do I need stitches?" Spark finished his inspection, but was careful not to let the hair fall back into the wound.

"I don't know." He said. "There's quite a bit of blood, but it looks as though most of it has dried. Let me get the first aid kit and clean it off."

/*\

As Spark applied the antiseptic to her ear, she couldn't help but wince. They'd been making small talk all through the process. It was like both of them wanted to forget what they'd seen tonight, what had happened. It was dull and forced, but it was better than the alternative.

"How did I not notice that?" she wondered aloud, as yet another bit of startling pain struck her poor ear.

"You were in shock." Spark murmured, sticking the needle through the skin. "It's reasonable that you might not have noticed." And back to the nights events. Just thinking about it almost made her want to gag, but she had to keep still.

"I never should have sent them out there." Blanche stated. "They should be asleep in their beds, not dead in the woods."

"Believe me, I know." Spark responded. "One of my own died yesterday. But instead of a slit throat, he took an injection to the neck."

"Was there a fight?" He shook his head, mostly to himself.

"No sign, but they were all dead anyways."

"How could that have happened?" Spark sighed.

"I have no idea. All I can figure is that after they got my trainer, the murderers must have let the pokemon out one at a time, and systematically stole or killed them based on what they were." He knotted the suture and put down his medical supplies.

"I'm so sorry." Blanche murmured. Spark nodded, and stood up.

"Me too. Here," he pulled the girl to her feet, "you can have my bed for the rest of the night. You've been through a lot. I'll call the police station before I hit the hay."

"You've been through equally as much." She said. "Keep your bed. I can sleep on the couch." Spark finished packing up the first aid kit, and spoke as he carried it back to the kitchen cabinet.

"Not today I haven't. You look like you're about to drop dead. Seriously it's fine. Take the bed." Blanche raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth to continue fighting when Spark shot her a look. It was very plain that he would not take no for an answer, and he was right. She was insanely tired, more so than she'd ever felt in her life. She didn't feel like fighting with him, so she conceded.

"Alright. Thank you, again." And before the leader of Instinct could say anything more, she retreated into his bedroom.

/*\

Spark spent about twenty minutes on the phone with an Officer Jenny, giving her coordinates and descriptions. Once it was over, he pulled the curtains and collapsed onto the couch with a pillow and blanket. He'd always dreamed of having a gorgeous girl in his bed, but not like this. _This is not how I wanted my night to go._ He thought to himself. _Poor Blanche._

His heart went out to her, really. Even if they weren't closely acquainted what she had suffered tonight was beyond horrible. And he had learned some things about her. She was shy, and not very good with people. She had wept for trainers she barely knew, because they had worked for her and she felt responsible for their well-being.

But then why were there so many awful rumors about her? Why did people say that she subtly abused her pokemon? Why did they say she was a cold and heartless shrew? Was it simply a rivalry thing? He didn't know. He only knew about those things because his underlings told him about it.

At this point the least he could do for her was stop those rumors within his own team. But that would be a job for later. For now he desperately needed to sleep, just like the girl currently hogging his bedroom.

/*\

Candela did not like losing.

It was only four in the morning and she was already in the gym, piling more and more weights onto the bars for her machamp to lift. She could not believe that it had actually lost to a ninetails. Not that she would ever say that to her pokemon, of course.

"Come on machamp! You can do this! You're the greatest and strongest pokemon of them all!" Always she did this for her pokemon. She would wake them early, and head for the gym. She'd set up their exercise routine, and cheered them on and told them they were amazing. She always did, and they did better for it.

Though they were the ones fighting in the rings, she felt responsible for whether or not they reigned victorious in their matches. If they failed she felt that failure in her gut, as if it was somehow she who had failed them. This also went for her trainers.

So when Candela got a visit from Officer Jenny while machamp was on his break, she could feel a horrendous mixture of grief and anger and failure welling up in her stomach with every word Jenny uttered.

 **/*\**

 **Yay! Candela! And Sparks console still won't update.**

 **-Static**


End file.
